


Derek Hale the Overprotective Grump

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Based on a Tumblr Post, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is a Softie, Fluff, Humor, Hunters, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash, Protective Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: “Who did this? Who the hell hurt you?”Stiles attempted to laugh. It didn’t come out sounding very good. “Remember that one time I told you I’d go to the hospital first if I ever got hurt?”Derek growled. Stiles winced.“I lied.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 28
Kudos: 886
Collections: Sterek Goodness





	Derek Hale the Overprotective Grump

There were fingers wrapped around his neck.

Fingers wrapped around his neck, a hand pinning him down, and the last thing Stiles remembered before losing consciousness was _‘let this be a message to Alpha Hale’_ and then all he knew was black.

It wouldn’t be the first time. And he doubted it’d be the last.

Still, when Stiles showed up on Derek’s doorstep beaten and bloodied, he thought it was just events coming in a full circle. Sometimes Derek got tortured and came to him broken, sometimes Stiles got beaten and came to Derek bloody. It was the way of life. Their messed up life.

Derek didn’t seem to agree.

Technically, Stiles didn’t show up on his doorstep. He ended up collapsed on the couch in his loft, an arm wrapped around his chest as he bled. There were a couple of open cuts that could be seen through his torn t-shirt and Stiles figured he was probably covered in an array of bruises. But if he was being honest, he’d faced a lot worse.

He had, right? At some point in his life.

Gerard had been pretty bad.

Derek must have caught his scent in the loft because the moment the front door slammed open, the man’s eyes were already aglow. And when they landed on Stiles, the bright red turned even brighter.

But Stiles was only half-conscious.

Derek was moving across the loft in a second, cupping Stiles’s chin and searching his face. Stiles groaned lightly, wincing as the fresh cuts littered across his cheekbone stung. Derek snarled at the back of his throat and his fingers twitched as if they were attempting not to tighten their grip. Black lines already crept up his arms.

“Who did this? Who the hell hurt you?”

Stiles attempted to laugh. It didn’t come out sounding very good. “Remember that one time I told you I’d go to the hospital first if I ever got hurt?”

Derek growled. Stiles winced.

“I lied.”

“Goddammit, Stiles. What the hell happened?”

“I think I’m a message, Sourwolf.”

The man snarled even lower, the sound rumbling through his chest. Stiles tried to laugh again, waving a hand through the air. His everything hurt.

“Knock it off, dude. They’ll be long gone if they know what’s good for them.”

“Hunters.”

“Probably. I don’t remember much.”

“I’ll kill them.”

“Which is exactly why they’ll probably be running.”

Derek snarled again, shoving himself up. Stiles watched him, almost a little amused if he wasn’t in so much pain, and the man looked like he was debating stalking right back out of the loft. He could probably catch them, Stiles figured, if he hurried his furry ass along.

But then grey-green eyes swiveled back to where Stiles sat and Derek’s face softened. He made an abortive move forward before drawing himself back away.

“I’ll get a rag.”

“Probably a good idea, dude.”

“And a first aid kit.”

“You’re on fire today.”

_“Stiles.”_

“My ears are still ringing, but you sound a little pissed off. Are you a little pissed off?”

The man’s eye twitched and he turned away. Stiles closed his own eyes, tilting his head back with a groan. He was so going to spend this coming weekend doing nothing but sleeping. And maybe questioning all his life choices. Why did the big bad uglies always come for him?

It was like Stiles had a sign on his back or something.

Derek came back a few moments later with a first aid kit and a damp cloth. Stiles let his eyes flutter open again, smiling softly. The man didn’t return it.

“Derek, dude, you look like somebody spit in your cornflakes.”

“Sit up.”

Stiles did so slowly, groaning again. Once more, Derek looked murderous. But the fingers that touched the side of Stiles’s face, turning it slightly to the side, were gentle. Stiles still hissed when a wet rag touched an open cut along his cheekbone though, and Derek winced a little.

“Sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Sourwolf.”

“You got hurt because of me.”

“I got hurt because of a bunch of asshole hunters.”

“Because they were coming after me.”

Stiles sat forward with a grunt and Derek’s eyes flashed with concern. But before the man could say a word, Stiles had cupped his face and gave him a flat look, leaving no room for argument. “You are not blaming yourself. Next time, I’ll just carry some pepper spray on me or something.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

“You’re so adorable when you’re trying to be threatening.”

Derek gave him a flat look as if he was daring Stiles to go on with how ‘adorable’ he could be, but maybe Stiles was a little delirious with pain. Or he was just pretty sure the hunters were scarier than Derek Hale could ever be. Because he just leaned back with a grin.

“I’m just saying, dude—”

“You should stop saying.”

“Rude. What happened to all the Softiewolf worries about how I had been hurt?”

Derek growled, dabbing the cloth over Stiles’s cheek again. He still winced, despite himself, and Derek made another growling noise. The man took another cloth, this one smelling like chemicals. Stiles shied away before he could stop himself and Derek gave him a red-eyed look.

“Stiles.”

“That’s gonna hurt, isn’t it?”

“Would you rather your injures get infected?”

“Can’t we just wait and see what happens? That’s what I usually do anyway--”

Derek growled and cupped a hand behind Stiles’s head, holding his face in place. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and hissed sharply at the right side of his face _stung._ Then Derek dabbed it around one of his more open cuts and he let loose a litany of curses.

“Goddammit, Derek, that hurts!”

“... Sorry.”

The man actually sounded like he was in pain too, which made guilt twist through Stiles’s gut. He sighed and forced himself to relax, still not opening his eyes until Derek had drawn back. Then, slowly, he unscrewed them again.

The man glanced down at his bloodied shirt. “That needs to come off.”

Stiles felt his face warm despite himself. It wasn’t like he’d never seen _Derek_ without a shirt, but the man had most certainly never seen him in anything other than jackets and t-shirts. And Stiles was plenty confident in his hot bod, thank you very much, but… it was Derek.

Which totally wasn’t a thing.

After a long moment of hesitation and one raised eyebrow from said grumpy werewolf, Stiles stripped off his ruined sweatshirt. He winced at the movement, carefully rotating his sore arms, and only had a faint memory flashes of them being twisted behind his back. Derek’s gaze turned even more murderous.

“What did they do?”

“Oh, you know,” Stiles said, attempting a wry smile. “A little bit of a parking lot kidnapping. One or two punch here and there. I think there’s a sign on my back that says ‘kidnap me’ or something.”

“Scott didn’t catch their scents?”

“Scott wasn’t at school today.”

Derek’s eyes flashed red and Stiles blushed, dropping his gaze.

“He was out with Allison.”

“He should have been there for you.”

“Dude,” Stiles said, raising his gaze back upward. “I’m fine, just a little bloody. It’ll heal soon! And it’s not like I’m dead or anything.”

Derek flinched like he’d been slapped. Stiles instantly felt bad; even more so at the man’s next growled out words. “You could have been.”

“Oh, that’s incredibly optimistic.”

Derek glared at him. Then his eyes traveled down Stiles’s bare chest, scowl darkening. Stiles glanced down too and he was pretty sure everything just looked worse because of the blood. Which… wasn’t a very optimistic thought on his part either. But still.

Derek finished cleaning him up in silence and Stiles did his best not to fidget when certain parts stung more or the man accidentally got too close to an open cut.

By the time Stiles know longer felt like his everything was crusted in blood, there were three very pink-colored rags on the coffee table and Derek’s hands were tinged a little pink too. Stiles wet his lips nervously.

“Uh, thanks, dude.”

“Next time, you go to a hospital.”

Stiles flinched. “I didn’t mean to… you know. Interrupt your afternoon or anything.”

Derek went still for a moment. Then careful fingers touched Stiles’s cheek and turned his face forward, and the man’s expression was nothing but soft and careful. “Stiles, you didn’t interrupt anything. But next time-- if there is one-- you’re showing up bloody somewhere where there are actual trained professionals available to take care of you.”

“Oh come on, Srouwolf, you didn’t to _that_ bad of a job.”

Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles grinned.

“Although the customer service attitude could use some work. No offense or anything.”

“Offense taken. I could have tossed you right back out of the loft.”

“But you wouldn’t have. You care about me far too much.”

The man’s gaze dropped back to the couch. Stiles’s heartbeat stuttered. For a moment, the silence reigned, and then Derek was pushing himself up, gathering the rags and disappearing down the hall. Stiles situated himself upright with a small curse.

If he kept this up, maybe he _would_ get kicked out of the loft.

But then Derek came back with a stack of blankets and a pillow. Stiles blinked, raising a brow, and Derek’s face turning a little red.

“I’ll go to the drugstore and get some painkillers. You need to sleep.”

“I’m not sick, dude.”

Derek just gave him a flat look, as if daring to be challenged, and Stiles sighed. He felt a little bit like a child as Derek set the pillow up on one end of the couch and then pointed toward it. Face warm, Stiles laid down and felt his face grow even hotter when Derek draped a blanket over him.

“I’m not a child either.”

“Shut up, Stiles.”

“Whatever. Are you gonna go get me some drugs or not?”

Derek growled. Stiles grinned.

“I’m joking, dude. But seriously, my face hurts. Painkillers, please! And… get chocolate.”

“Chocolate.”

“Yes, chocolate. Lots of it. Reeses.”

Derek looked at him for a long moment. Stiles could practically see the debate behind his eyes and for some reason, he didn’t think it was involving chocolate. Then the man nodded jerkily and before Stiles could react, there was a small kiss pressed against his forehead.

One from Derek Hale. The resident grumpy Alpha werewolf of Beacon Hills.

Who was currently turning bright red.

Stiles couldn’t help grinning slightly; even more so as Derek glowered. “Oh my god, Derek, you’re such an overprotective grump.”

“Shut up.”

“My overprotective grump.”

He could’ve sworn Derek turned even redder at that. The man grunted something unintelligible and turned around, grabbing his keys before slipping out the door. He still gave Stiles a last glance; who continued to grin. Derek frowned at that.

"Sleep."

Then he was gone.

Stiles shook his head, grinning at the door. He could still feel where soft lips had brushed against his forehead. The Softiewolf.

And yeah, sometimes Derek got tortured and came to him broken. Sometimes Stiles got beaten and came to Derek bloody. It was the way of life. Their messed up life. But no matter what happened, one of them was always there for the other. And if it involved forehead kisses, well… who was Stiles to disagree?

He most certainly wouldn't.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt; “Who did this? Who hurt you?” and I love writing some good hurt/comfort! Sterek was practically made for that. Of course, I'd love to hear what you all thought. Your guys's comments make my day!
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr?
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Or on my favorite Sterek discord!
> 
> [not a dumpster](https://discord.gg/78RjqwY)


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